what
late, I sit down with the storm racketing around the house, to write
the history of this last day's sport with the sea trout. The
consciousness of a fairly good day, all things considered, puts me at
peace with myself and the world; and the transference from wet to dry
clothes, not to speak of the storm-tossed appearance of an occasional
boatman dropping down to the fiord, imparts a sense of comfort that is
not at all a drawback when one takes up the pen.

Before getting into his stolkjarre this morning, H., referring to the
high tides, solaced me by the remark that, although the river was a
couple of feet higher than it ought to be, there was an even chance of
fair sport. To begin with the water was not badly coloured, and it was
clearing. The two hours preceding low water were, as usual, mentioned
as the period in which business with sea trout should be most pressing.
After, therefore, three hours in my littered rooms with two big
portmanteaux, I summoned my man (always ready for a summons), and we
trudged off along road and bye-track to the island which was our
customary starting point, and a favourite place at all times.

If newly-run sea trout rested _en route_ anywhere, it would be
somewhere off its green banks. Above the island the river was a long,
broad, dull reach, where a good deal of harling was done by the
natives. At H.'s boundary there were rocks, breaking the stream into
typical runs, and there was one channel or gut, about ten yards out
from the island bank, which rarely failed in giving temporary lodgings
to running fish. Properly speaking, an angler should, in fishing this
down from shore, keep behind the low-growing alders; but it always
seemed more advantageous to me, as a student of fish movement, to watch
the progress of the fly. Never in the world could there be a better
place to note the movements of a sea trout, and so you began the day
with faculties all awake. The small Bulldog (after the point had been
duly touched up by the file) was first put up, and at the third cast I
beheld a brown streak and a silver flash, followed by an abrupt
disappearance of the object. A sea trout had showed himself without
nearing the fly, and had retired immediately to quarters. Ten minutes
as a rule was ample for this island casting, but as, on this occasion,
there was no other sign than that I have mentioned, I could not but
spare a few extra minutes to my friend who had falsely made overtures